


Cheer

by Hekate1308



Category: Inspector Morse (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:14:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28309566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: Morse, Robbie was rather sure, wasn’t one for Christmas. The Chief Inspector was what could only be called curmudgeonly on his good days; and Robbie would certainly not risk their young partnership by daring to bring any Christmas cheer into their office.When they stopped in front of his house, he had an idea, however. After all – it was Christmas, and it was a somewhat sad thought that Morse would just return to an empty house when he could be with friends instead. “Sir, would you like to step in for a moment? It’s somewhat of a tradition with us…”Inspector Morse Christmas story.
Relationships: Robert Lewis & Inspector Morse, Robert Lewis/Valerie Lewis
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	Cheer

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas!!!

Morse, Robbie was rather sure, wasn’t one for Christmas. The Chief Inspector was what could only be called curmudgeonly on his good days; and Robbie would certainly not risk their young partnership by daring to bring any Christmas cheer into their office.

The truth was, he quite liked Morse – despite the fact that most of his colleagues were either too much in awe of or angry at him to even consider him one of their own most of the time. How could he not? He was a brilliant detective – even if he left most of the day-to-day honest police work to Robbie – and somewhere underneath that big brain, there was a honest heart. He knew as much, since he’d tentatively broached the subject of the holidays a few weeks ago, bracing himself to having to tell the kiddies he’d be working yet again; but Morse had surprised him by immediately agreeing that he could take the days off, and get away early on Christmas Eve to boot. After all, he’d declared, Robbie was a “family man”.

Morse himself had never spoken of his family to Robbie. There was some talk – wasn’t there always – of a few failed attempts at building a life with someone (several someones, in fact; seemed like DCI Morse had been a bit of a heartbreaker back in his day) but nothing had stuck, and here he was, alone at Christmas. He’d once or twice mentioned a sister with children in passing, but it hadn’t seemed to Robbie like they were particularly close, and he certainly hadn’t requested any time off.

Another thing in Morse’s favour, really, if you asked Robbie. He’d always liked those who were ready to come in on the holidays to ensure that people with kiddies could have the holidays to spend with their families.

Yes, he quite liked him.

That didn’t mean he didn’t worry about certain things.

“ _Don’t_ worry, Le-wis” he drawled when he saw Robbie glance once again at his watch on Christmas Eve, “I meant it when I thought I’d have you home on time today.”

That may well be, but they still had to finish up the paperwork on their latest case – and it was quite a bit – and it was rather clear who would –

“Give me that.”

And with that, Morse had grabbed a lion-share of the documents Robbie still had to fill out and strolled back to his desk.

Robbie had known he was the good sort, deep down.

He was much looking forward to their dinner; it had become something of a tradition since they’d moved back to Oxford since it was Val’s hometown and they’d considered it a good place for the kiddies to grow up. And it wasn’t just a family affair – their friends knew that they could drop by any time on Christmas Eve, to partake in the good cheer, Val always ready with a smile and another plate of her excellent cooking. Granted, Robbie mostly spent the time with the children, trying to make them laugh and cheer as much as possible, but she always insisted that it made him all the better a husband in her eyes.

God, he had married far above his station.

Seeing Morse frown at the paperwork, he bit back a smile and concentrated on his own portion.

* * *

Just because Morse abhorred paperwork, didn’t mean that he didn’t know how to do it, and it didn’t surprise Robbie in the least to find that he was quick enough when he pit his mind to it; soon enough, and quite punctually, they were finishing up.

Superintendent Strange paid them a visit. “Ah. Lewis. I hear you’ll be off until after Christmas?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What about you, matey? Going to see your sister and her kids?”

“On the 27th, sir.”

“Good… you know, the offer’s always open; you could –“

“Thank you, sir” he hastened to say, “but I’ll be quite comfortable.”

Robbie, who by now had a firm grasp of the station gossip, knew what this was about, of course. Other than their party – if an open invitation like that could be called a party – Christmas Eve at the Stranges’ was a formal affair, complete with everyone who had anything to say in town; it wasn’t difficult to guess why the superintendent should think it a good idea to introduce Morse into the circle, nor why Morse would be rather happy to stay away from it all.

He acted as if he hadn’t noticed, though. How any of his superior officers kept Christmas was nothing of his business; and a less grumpy Morse was always a good thing.

Doctor DeBryn’s seasons’ greetings a little while later was then also much more cordially accepted by Morse – small wonder, since the pathologist knew how to take Morse, in other words, wasn’t keen on dragging him somewhere he didn’t want to be, and simply wished him all the best before turning to Robbie and doing the same. Maybe it was because he was in some ways much more similar to Morse than Strange ever had been, and therefore knew he wouldn’t enjoy being forcefully dragged to celebrate the holidays. That was just Morse for you – a little morose, a little gloomy, and never ready to admit that he might actually like to spend time with other people.

That didn’t stop him from being spontaneous, however. Having had to leave the car in the garage over the holidays – a damn nuisance, but thankfully, they had already been done with their Christmas shopping by the time it had become clear there was nothing they could do about it – and he was already resigned to an uncomfortable ride in the bus with a group of people just as unwilling to be there, and impatient to be home, when Morse got up.

“Let’s run you home then, Lewis. Wouldn’t want your good wife to be angry with me.”

Why he insisted on speaking of Val like that – not that she wasn’t a good wife, on the contrary, she was the best anyone could ask for – he couldn’t say, but he supposed it was all these books that Morse was so fond of.

There was classical music playing in the car as soon as he put his key in the ignition, of course; when he asked, Morse surprisingly seemed a little awkward as he all but admitted to it being Händel’s The Messiah. Robbie couldn’t really see what there was so embarrassing about that, but dropped the topic when he noticed.

“Seems like we’ll get a white Christmas this year” he suddenly observed when he saw the first snowflakes fall, already anticipating the kiddies’ joy. Maybe they’d get enough to build a snowman and have a proper snowball fight… it’d been a while.

Morse grumbled something at that, undoubtedly about how someone would have to clean it all up and that this kind of weather wasn’t good for his car, but at the same time, there was this twinkle in his eyes that so many people seemed to overlook when it came to the DCI, that easily told him he didn’t mean it. Then he added, “If you say so, Lewis. But remember, a white Christmas wasn’t even considered normal or wished for until Charles Dickens popularized it with his Christmas writings…”

Robbie, who still held somewhat of a grudge against the man for having written The Pickwick Papers, normally contended himself with catching the Christmas Carol on TV since Val loved it so much, so decided not to comment.

Trust Morse to come up with something like that.

When they stopped in front of his house, he had an idea, however. After all – it was Christmas, and it was a somewhat sad thought that Morse would just return to an empty house when he could be with friends instead. “Sir, would you like to step in for a moment? It’s somewhat of a tradition with us…”

“I don’t think I’d be much of an asset to your Christmas party, Lewis. And what about your children? You’ve got better things to do than entertain your boss.”

“They’re used to people stepping in tonight, sir, honest, and if I know Val, she’ll insist you have a bite to eat anyway.”

He never quite knew how he managed to do it on this first Christmas Eve, but eventually, Morse exited the car with him, perhaps a bit surprised at himself.

Robbie, for one, didn’t doubt that Val would be cordiality herself, as it indeed turned out. Her eyes, upon spying them both, might have widened for a fraction of a second, and she might have thrown him a glance to ensure all was well; but as soon as she knew it to be so, she kissed him quickly, then happily greeted Morse, who, as Robbie had already learned and so was not surprised to see, received her affectionate greeting with a somewhat awkward expression, obviously not quite used to such a welcome.

Lyn and Mark were in the living room, playing, and ran towards him as soon as he entered; it was only too natural that for a few minutes, he’d forget all about their first guest of the day.

Luckily, however, when he finally recalled, Morse didn’t seem to be angry; instead, he cleared his throat, blinked his eyes, and then tentatively said hello to the kiddies, who, while being somewhat in awe of him as their father’s boss, soon forgot all about their shyness when he discovered Lyn’s xylophone and began to ask questions.

Morse and his music. Always the same with the man.

He slipped into the kitchen where Val was busy with dinner to kiss her again. “Thank you, pet, for letting Morse come.”

“Oh, you silly goose, I wouldn’t turn anyone out at Christmas! Plus, someone else’s bound to drop by sooner rather than later anyway.”

She was right, of course, but what she couldn’t have foreseen – what Robbie was rather sure none of them had foreseen – was that Morse became the constant of their evening. He sat down for dinner readily enough, with Lyn still asking question about question regarding certain musical stuff that Robbie didn’t think he’d ever heard of, and Mark, who was only to glad to go where his big sister was leading, chiming in from time to time; and even when others came and went and Robbie and Val were in constant motion, Morse was perfectly cordial and even – dare he say it – pleasant. He hardly thought many of their colleagues would have recognized the DCI who made them quake in their boots simply by approaching them day in and day out; but he didn’t mind one bit. He was even smiling.

Eventually, Lyn and Mark clamours for a snowman and one or two snowballs to throw around, and instead of getting away then, Val carted Morse off for tea in the meantime.

As usual, Robbie had no time to worry, not with his children clamouring for attention; and when they came back, the better part of an hour later, with a wonderful snowman watching over the house and being rather wet and cold from one too many snowball, he found his wife and his boss conversing about some piece of Oxford history or another.

It being late, Morse then decided – after a glass of sherry, naturally – that it was time to go; and even bid the children goodbye with a gentle smile.

Robbie and Val accompanied him to the door, unsure what to say. It had been a very pleasant evening, and he hoped that Morse thought so as well.

“Mrs. Lewis, I thank you very much for having me.”

“Oh, Chief Inspector, it was our pleasure, wasn’t it, Robbie?” And before either of them could say anything, she’d pointed at the mistletoes by the door and kissed Morse’s cheek; and the DCI not being one to say no to any pretty woman kissing him, it was happily received.

After Val had retired, he heartly shook Robbie’s hand. “The season’s greetings, Lewis; I’ll see you after the holidays.”

“The season’s greetings, sir” he replied and watched him leave, Morse turning around one more time for a short wave.

It _had_ been a very good idea to invite him in, he decided as he re-joined his wife and kiddies.

A very good idea indeed.


End file.
